Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And I took the one most travelled by.
I assumed it was the one for me,
Paid no heed to words of thee.
Even though it was most trodden upon,
And one that an exodus of pupils seemed to be on.
I forged ahead with certainty,
Thinking this was the only path for me.
I struggled and screamed but made it through,
And at the end amidst the crowd,
Realised that maybe, just maybe
Not all our paths were the same after all.
Because we might be on the same road, you and I;
But I'll skip and jump and run around,
Maybe even take a diversion here and there,
Perhaps stumble upon the common path again,
Or even walk back to the intersection if it gets too mundane.
But who's to say I won't pave my own way?
'Cause guess what Frost,
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And I took the one most traveled by,
And in it though, I'll be sure to make all the difference!
YOU ARE READING
Unfinished Paintings
PoetryA collection of my prose, poetry and epiphanies over the past couple of years. I've always loved writing and composing, but I'd never assumed anything I wrote was worth being read by anyone but myself. Writing has always been a way for my mind to co...
